


Honour and Rikkai

by redex (urvogel)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-09
Updated: 2007-07-09
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urvogel/pseuds/redex
Summary: It doesn't matter where, or when. They will be together. Rikkai does not loose.





	Honour and Rikkai

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net. If you were around the TeniPuri fandom in 2005-2007 you may recall a bit of a boom in yakuza AU fanfics.

His body was beautiful and proud as he stepped out of the baths, steaming with the natural spring's heat. His hair dripped onto his back as attendants rushed to dry him off and drape a robe over his shoulders. The lord's movements were graceful and controlled and his presence, even naked, was in contrast to his small figure.

The door to the next room was opened by a deep-bowing servant and Yukimura Seiichi, lord of Rikkai, stepped across the threshold. The four men kneeling at the table in front of him stood at his arrival and they moved to the side to make room for his presence. His name rung through the room as the impartial official intoned the syllables: Yukimura Seiichi.

The eyes of the men across the table were wary as they took in the youngest and most dangerous lord in the land. His hair was cropped short as a warrior's instead of long in the current fashion with the nobles, but Fashion did not dictate beauty to Nature. His features were pure-blooded and fine as a woman's, making the cold steel in his eyes all the more obvious.

It was only once in five centuries that three such prodigies could have aligned themselves together so easily. The chief councillor and advisor Yanagi Renji, and the commander Sanada Genichirou both knelt at their sworn leader's side for this agreement. However, a new wind was blowing through the lands and a new generation of young warriors were making names for themselves everywhere. The Blessed Triad would have to work harder for their battles, but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that they would win.

They had lost before, of course. Yukimura Seiichi had not gained his will of steel without going through the trial of fire. An illness had struck him down the year before, leaving his commander and his advisor in charge of a decisive battle against increasingly powerful upstarts. But such weakness was long gone. The Lord's gaze was firm and his tone, though cheerful and melodious, brokered no argument. All eyes watched only him and all ears listened to his voice alone.

The treaty of surrender was completed as the last rays of sun dipped below the horizon. It would be fair and honourable, with no unneeded punishment, but it would ensure that there would be no further threat from this front for a long time to come. The defeated lords bowed their heads in recognition of his strength and were accompanied outside to where their men were waiting. Yukimura, Sanada, and Yanagi sat with the strength of statues until the other men had passed out of hearing. Then, Yukimura laughed, a sound like a bubbling stream. It made the eyes of his two watchers soften and their bodies relax. The leader of them all stood in one fluid motion and passed into the next room were the sound of a door opening made the other two stand and look at each other knowledgeably before following.

The door opened onto a garden, but a garden the likes of which could not be seen for many, many miles. The perfume of the flowers hung heavy in the night air and it drifted into the sleeping room on the breeze. The attendants would not follow them into this room and the door slid shut behind them seemingly by magic.

To touch each other was to learn something new, but also to affirm what they already knew. Seiichi was like a god to them, all-powerful and all-knowing. They only know how to worship him like this.

His skin was soft and clean from his bath, smooth under their touch. No scars blemished this skin and no illness withered these limbs. His firm grip drew them together, around him, and they undressed his shivering body with coordinated hands. He shivered not from cold, but from anticipation; he knew what those hands could and would do to his body when the time was right. Their kisses went from one to another, passing around in a circle as the commander and the advisor vied for their master's attention. They were on his either side and as he lowered himself down to the mats they kissed every piece of his skin, drawing him up into a cloud of pleasure. If one took his phallus into his mouth then the other would occupy his hands and lips. If one smeared his fingers with oil and pushed apart his legs then the other would lay behind him and hold him steady as he cried out into the night. Sometimes they would do this to each other while he watched, encouraged by the burning heat of his gaze and the softness of his voice, but tonight they wished to honour the man who had brought them so far. His illness had only made them value him that much more; they wouldn't survive without him.

He accepted their desire without a ripple in the pool of his consciousness. They moved around him until he was wanton with desire, a part of him that no one else would see. They would hold themselves back only to give him pleasure, and then they moved together towards their climax. The moon lit their arousal as they flew over the edge together, voices lifted in a primal song. When they lay together, dirty once again, their three very different bodies did not move away from one another. Instead, they curled together, the centre of their universe pressing between his two companions, their touches growing languid and slow. They would, perhaps, repeat the performance many times this night in celebration of their survival after one more battle won.

The morning would be the hesitant voice of a servant, whomever had lost the draw this time, and the opening of the dawn. The tea would be warm and revitalizing as they sat and watched the garden come to life under the sun, just like the troops under their lord. They would bathe and dress together, and then go their separate ways to prepare for the traditional celebration of the battle won. It would not be grand or loud, but would honour the bravery of the men and their leaders before they prepared to embark on another battle once again.

Such was honour, in Rikkai.


End file.
